


From the Source

by theodora_honey



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Age Play, Baby Keith (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, Keith loves his pacifier, M/M, Male Lactation, Nursing Kink, Pre-Kerberos Mission, gross kink wrapped up in layers of sweet fluff, i guess idk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-07-13 19:56:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16024889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theodora_honey/pseuds/theodora_honey
Summary: It starts in his office - the unethical cherry on top, just in case it wasn’t clear by literally everything else just how fucked up this situation is that Shiro finds himself in.Notfinds himself,no. That implies that Shiro did nothing while all of this just happened around him. That’s not accurate at all. The truth is that Shiro dived into this headfirst, fucking himself over and taking Keith down with him.But he can’t honestly say that he’d do any of it differently.Keith has a secret that he would never trust with anyone but Shiro. Shiro discovers a nurturing instinct that no one but Keith would understand. They find a new way to bond.





	1. Chapter 1

It starts in his office - the unethical cherry on top, just in case it wasn’t clear by literally everything else just how fucked up this situation is that Shiro finds himself in. 

Not  _ finds himself, _ no. That implies that Shiro did nothing while all of this just happened around him. That’s not accurate at all. The truth is that Shiro dived into this headfirst, fucking himself over and taking Keith down with him. 

But he can’t honestly say that he’d do any of it differently.

It’s late, coming up to lights-out for the cadets, and Shiro is busy going through reports and cross-referencing old flight logs, sipping on his sixth coffee of the day, when Keith bursts into the room.

And ‘burst’ really is the word for it, because the second Shiro looks up from his work, the kid’s wide eyes start overflowing with tears and Shiro only just manages to stand up in time before Keith stumbles over and falls into his arms, sobbing against his chest. 

“Keith!” Shiro exclaims, hands running over his shoulders, down his waist, searching for some kind of injury. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

Keith shakes his head and sinks to the floor, his knees giving out on him. Shiro goes down with him, holding the boy’s small body against his and rubbing a soothing hand up and down his back. Keith does nothing but shake and cry, his breath coming short and quick, muffled against uniform jacket.

It’s panic. Shiro’s seen this before in others, but he didn’t know Keith was prone to such attacks. He doesn’t have a clue what the cause might be, but of course he’s going to try to help anyway. Keith trusts him enough to come to him, whatever the reason, and he won’t let him down.

“I’m going to lift you up, okay? I’ll just move us to the sofa.”

Keith makes a noise that sounds like it could be an acknowledgement, and Shiro scoops him up with an arm around his back and one under his knees, carries him over to the other side of the room. He’s grateful that his position allows him a large enough office to fit a sofa in; he’s used it more times than he’d like to admit to power nap when there’s been too much work to do to justify returning to his room. He never thought he’d use it to console a distraught cadet on, but, if it works it works.

Keith’s tiny in his arms and weighs less than Shiro expects. He’s small for his age, but it’s not until Shiro picks him up off the floor with ease that it really strikes him just how much of a difference in size there is between them. Keith wraps weak arms around Shiro’s neck, and when Shiro sinks to the sofa he stays like that, refuses to let go. Looking over to make sure the automatic door slid shut behind Keith, Shiro sighs and spreads his legs, leans back so the boy is half sitting, half lying on him. Keith clings to him tensely, twisted around so both legs are hooked over one of Shiro’s thighs and his chest is pressed against Shiro’s torso, face buried in his shirt. Shiro can feel his little heart beating rapidly. His tears don’t stop.

“It’s going to be okay, Keith. I’m here for you,” he says, making sure to keep his voice steady and calm. “Is it okay if I ask some yes or no questions? It’ll make it easier for me to help you.”

Keith manages to nod his head, his fingers trembling uncontrollably where they paw at the back of Shiro’s hair. 

“Good,” Shiro says. “First things first, are you hurt? Did somebody touch you?”

Keith shakes his head. That’s a relief, at least. Shiro’s well aware of what can go on in places like the Garrison. Take a bunch of vulnerable kids being taught to obey without question, add a few adults with a scary amount of power and an inclination towards authoritarianism, and there’s a lot of potential for things to go wrong. Shiro’s always been especially worried about Keith. He stands out, from his snarky attitude to his record-breaking scores in the sims, even his appearance. He’s pretty, all delicate features, soft cheeks and pink lips, smooth skin and striking eyes turned into a persistent frown. It’s not like Shiro has any particular suspicions about any of his colleagues, but it’s always the ones you don’t expect, isn’t it? And that’s saying nothing about the other cadets. Keith’s not exactly the most popular student in his year group.

“Did someone threaten you?” Shiro asks. “Or -- or scare you in some way?”

Keith shakes his head again. 

“Did you see something bad happen to someone else?”

Again, Keith shakes a no. It’s a good thing, of course, but Shiro’s finding it hard to come up with more questions. He needs to think like Keith, rather than a Garrison officer. Keith’s got to be the strongest, most stubbornly independent kid Shiro’s ever met. What would cause him to come running to Shiro’s arms in tears like this?

“Is it something to do with your parents?” he asks quietly.

This time, Keith hesitates a little before shaking his head with the slightest shrug of one shoulder.

There’s something there, Shiro’s sure, but it’s going to be a lot messier than what a yes or no question can reveal.

“Okay, Keith,” he says. “I’m not sure what’s going on yet, but I’m really glad you came to me. I’m going to help you with it, whatever it is, okay? You did really well by coming to me.” He rubs comforting hands up and down Keith’s back, soothing him as much as his bulky cadet uniform will allow. “I know it’s hard, but I want you to concentrate on your breathing, alright? Just try to breathe in time with me. In…” Shiro takes a slow, deep breath, and hears Keith try to do the same. It’s stuttered and teary, but he’s trying so hard and Shiro feels oddly proud of him, his chest tight and warm where Keith’s head rests on it. “That’s good, now let it out…” 

They repeat the process until Keith’s breathing nice and slow on his own and he stops shaking. His body goes limp on top of Shiro’s, utterly exhausted. Shiro keeps him there a few moments, closes his eyes and strokes up and down his back, enjoying the feeling of a warm body pressed against his. It’s been too long since he had human contact, he thinks. He shouldn’t be feeling this way towards one of his students. Even Keith. They’ve always had a closer than usual relationship, but this is creeping right up towards an uncrossable line. It’s not sexual, but it is… intimate. He can smell the shampoo in Keith’s hair, feel the warmth of his breath through the wet patches he cried into Shiro’s shirt, and his heartbeat trembles for just half a second before he gets himself under control.

“Keith,” he murmurs. “Can you tell me what’s wrong? I want to help you.”

Keith sniffles and shakes his head slightly, although he doesn’t move from his spot on Shiro’s chest. “It’s embarrassing,” he murmurs. “I’m fine now.”

“I’m worried about you,” Shiro says, stroking a hand through Keith’s hair. It’s softer than he expects. “I’ve never seen you like this before. Won’t you let me help you?”

“You did help me,” Keith says. “Please, just… it’s embarrassing. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Shiro’s heart aches and he wraps his arms around Keith, tight but still not as tight as he would like to. Keith’s so small, he’s afraid he might hurt him. “You don’t have to tell me,” he says, “but please, don’t be embarrassed. You can trust me with anything.”

Keith nods and sniffs again. “It’s… well, I lost something.”

“Something your dad gave to you?”

“N-no, but…” Keith sighs. “Something that makes me feel better. I guess… maybe it reminds me of him. I don’t know.”

Shiro nods slowly. He doesn’t want to push Keith with too many questions if he’s not ready to answer them. But something tells him that Keith wants to open up, he’s just finding it hard on his own. 

“Do you know where you left it? Maybe we can go look.”

“It’s already gone,” Keith says, his voice breaking a little before he swallows down more tears. “I checked. It’s gone. That’s why I came here.”

“It might be over at the lost-and-found. Do you want me to come with you and look?”

Keith gives a firm shake of his head. “No. I can just buy a new one. It’s okay.”

“Keith,” Shiro says quietly, after a pause. “You don’t have to answer me if you don’t want to, but… what is it?”

Keith sighs and nuzzles his face into Shiro’s shirt. He’s quiet. Shiro gives him a moment, several long moments, in fact, and he’s about to give up and move on to something else when Keith mumbles something into his chest.

“What was that?” Shiro asks. “I couldn’t hear.”

Keith sighs again and pulls his face back a little. “Promise you won’t laugh?” he asks, his voice so small and vulnerable. “Or think I’m gross?”

“Of course I won’t,” Shiro says. And he means it completely. He adores this kid; he really can’t think of anything that would ruin his opinion of him.

“It’s… it’s a…” Keith takes a deep breath and steadies himself before trying again. “It’s a pacifier.”

Shiro’s silent a moment, unsure if he heard correctly. But of course he did. There’s not much else he could mistake the word for. “A pacifier,” he repeats slowly. “I see.”

Keith groans a little under his breath. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you. You probably think I’m disgusting.”

“Of course I don’t,” Shiro says, giving him a reassuring hug. “It’s just… not what I was expecting, that’s all. But it’s fine. Really.”

He doesn’t know  _ what  _ he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this. The image of Keith, sucking on a pacifier, rosy cheeked, lips pink and wet, forces its way into his mind, and Shiro feels himself flush red. He’s glad Keith’s face is still buried in his shirt.

“It’s weird, right?” Keith says. “I know it’s weird. I don’t know why I do it, it’s just… I’ve had it for so long, I guess I never properly outgrew it, and then when Dad died…”

“It’s okay,” Shiro says, stroking his hair again. “It’s not weird. Well, maybe it’s a little unusual, but a lot of people do stranger things, believe me.”

He pauses awkwardly, and Keith’s curiosity is palpable in the silence. Shiro clears his throat and keeps talking before he has the chance to ask. “So, you, um, you lost it.”

“Yeah,” says Keith, sighing. “I must have left it in the bathroom. That’s where I, um, where I use it. So no one will see. By the time I realized, it was already gone. I don’t know who took it, but if anyone finds out it’s mine, I’ll --” his voice breaks off with a shuddery sob. Shiro doesn’t need him to finish, though. He knows just how ruthlessly the other cadets would tease and ostracise him if they discovered his secret. That’s the last thing Keith needs; he’s outcast enough as it is.

“No one will know,” Shiro says. “Whoever found it probably assumed it was left by one of the officers who has a baby.”

“But it was in the cadet’s bathroom,” Keith whines. “Officers have their own bathrooms. They wouldn’t go in there.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Shiro says. “No one’s going to think that hard about it. Really, Keith, you don’t need to worry. I promise.”

Keith nods reluctantly. “Yeah… I guess you’re right.”

He’s calmed down now, but neither of them have made a move to get him off of Shiro’s lap. Shiro keeps rubbing a hand up and down Keith’s back, the other resting on his knees and drawing him in closer. He hopes that Keith doesn’t find it weird. 

“So, what’s the plan?” Shiro asks. “Do you have a spare?”

Keith shakes his head. “I haven’t had the chance to buy a new one in a while. They don’t sell them at the exchange. Need to go into town.”

“I’ll take you into town on the weekend, then,” Shiro says, glad to have finally found some practical way of helping.

“Really?” Keith asks. He sounds so disbelieving, like he can’t comprehend someone doing him a favor, even after everything Shiro’s done for him already. It breaks his heart. He just wants to wrap Keith up in a big blanket and cuddle away years of trust and abandonment issues. If only it were that simple.

“Of course,” he says. “But that’s a few days away still. What are we going to do until then?”

Keith hesitates, shifting against Shiro slightly. “I’ll be okay,” he says. It’s unconvincing. “I only really need it when I’m feeling stressed or anxious, or something happens.”

“What happened today that made you need it?”

“Just the usual stuff,” Keith says. “Griffin and the others trying to provoke me, Iverson singling me out… Nothing, really. I just need it to calm myself down, otherwise my head gets too full and I… well, you saw what just happened. I break down.”

“Keith,” Shiro whispers, drawing him in closer. “I didn’t realize it was this hard for you. You should have told me earlier.”

Keith swallows. “It’s okay. I’m feeling better now. It helps, being here with you…” He sounds so embarrassed, and Shiro finds it painfully cute. He tilts his head down, nuzzles his nose into Keith’s hair and presses a soft kiss to his head. As soon as he does it Shiro realizes he shouldn’t have.

But Keith laughs a little, softly. It’s a sound that Shiro hears far too little, and it makes him feel warm inside. Shiro’s been warned before about favoriting Keith, but maybe it’s worth the risk of pushing the fraternization rules. The kid needs someone on his side.

“Is there anything I can do to help you get through the next few days?” Shiro asks.

“You’ve already helped,” says Keith. “Unless you have a pacifier lying around your office, then there’s not much else you can do.”

Shiro chuckles. “Well, I can’t say that I have one of those. But is there anything else you can use in the meantime? Like… a lollipop? Or maybe sucking your thumb?”

Keith shakes his head. “I’ve tried. It’s not really the same.”

Shiro feels an awful, obscene thought start to worm its way into his head. “What if…” he starts, but he cuts himself off. What the hell is he thinking? He can’t suggest something like that to Keith. It’s so far beyond appropriate that his superiors would have to come up with some new way to punish him for even thinking such a thing. What’s wrong with him?

Keith lifts his head up and looks into Shiro’s eyes for the first time since he fell into his arms. “What?” He looks so sweet and innocent, his wide, bright eyes still wet, cheeks pink from crying. Shiro feels himself go bright red, and his heart starts beating hard and fast.

“Ah, it’s nothing,” he says. “Forget it.”

Keith gives a little pout, his mouth pulled to one side. “We don’t need to be embarrassed with each other, right? So you can tell me.”

Goddamnit. Keith just turned his own words back around on him, and he can’t say no or it might shake Keith’s confidence in him. He just hopes that Keith won’t freak out when he explains. 

“Well,” Shiro says, reluctantly. “The pacifier is just an imitation of… of the real thing. Right? So I was wondering if you…”

“If I what?” Keith asks when Shiro pauses. He’s the picture of innocence. Shiro thinks he might catch on fire with how hot he’s burning under the gaze of those piercing indigo eyes.

“If you, um.” Shiro’s mouth is dry and words just aren’t coming to him. He swallows, tries again. “If you wanted to try… with me… I mean, only if you want to…”

Keith looks at him a moment and Shiro swears he could feel the world come to a stop. Then Keith’s eyes flash with understanding and he opens his mouth in surprise. “You mean…?” He draws his little hand down to Shiro’s chest, delicate fingers brushing over Shiro’s nipple almost accidently, and Shiro twitches at the contact. He nods his head, breathless.

“You’d do that for me?” Keith asks.

“Of course,” Shiro says, he voice a little croaky. “I’d do anything, if you thought it might help.”

And while that’s not exactly a lie, it’s not the whole truth, either. But Shiro can’t exactly tell Keith that some fucked up, previously unbeknownst part of him is all of a sudden bristling with the desire for Keith to suckle on his tit like a binky. Jesus Christ.

Keith blushes, and the expression on his face changes to something unreadable, but he nods his head. “It might help,” he mumbles quietly.

Nodding weakly, Shiro slowly removes his hand from Keith’s knees and fumbles with the clasp of his jacket, but his fingers are shaking too much. Keith takes over, deft little fingers making quick work of it and the zip beneath the fold. He loosens it from beneath Shiro’s waist belt and exposes his white undershirt. He tugs this between his fingers before hesitating, looking up at Shiro with a nervous expression. “Are you sure?” 

Shiro can only nod; his head is too dizzy to remember how words work, and he’s breathing too hard to be able to speak anyway. He can’t believe he’s sitting here with Keith in his lap, undressing him eagerly so he can suck on his nipple. Everything about this is surreal.

Keith pulls his shirt up slowly and looks over his bare chest, mouth wet and open and cheeks flushed pink. When he leans down and lets his tongue out of his mouth to give Shiro’s nipple a cautious lick, Shiro feels it so strongly it makes him gasp.

“Sorry,” Keith says, wincing.

“No, no it’s okay,” Shiro says, trying to pull himself together. “It’s just… sensitive. But it’s fine.”

Keith nods and moves his mouth back to Shiro’s nipple. Shiro can feel his breath tickle it before Keith’s tongue touches it again, then Keith’s lips wrap warm and wet around him and he latches on.

It’s softer than Shiro expects - that’s the first thing he notices. He’s had partners play with his nipples before, of course, and he touches them himself when he’s on his own, but Keith’s silky soft lips and tongue feel so different to fingers, and the suckling sensation is far gentler than he would have guessed. Keith pulls the nipple between his tongue and the roof of his mouth, his teeth resting gently on the skin around it, helping to hold it in place. Shiro closes his eyes and tilts his head back, resting it on the back of the sofa. Keith’s drawing something warm and tingling out of his core with every suckle, and it feels incredible.

The second thing he notices is the noise. It’s louder than he would have thought - at least, once Keith relaxes a little and falls into a rhythm. He makes a wet, sucking sound with each pull of his lips, and Shiro can even hear the saliva in his throat as he swallows it down between breaths. Some part of him wants Keith to let it all out, drool all over his chest, but he can’t voice that desire. That’s too weird, even for what they’re doing. And besides, this is for Keith, not him.

He opens his eyes and looks at Keith. The boy is already looking up at him, big eyes curious and concerned. He’s so sweet, still making sure Shiro’s alright, even when this is about his comfort. Shiro smiles at him and runs a hand through his soft hair. “Is it okay?” he asks, hoping Keith can’t hear the way his voice trembles.

Keith nods. “It’s good,” he says, pulling of Shiro just a little. It’s cold without his mouth around Shiro’s wet nipple. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Shiro whispers, stroking Keith’s hair and guiding his face gently back down to his chest. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just take whatever you need, Keith.”

Keith smiles sweetly, cheeks tinged pink as he keeps suckling. His eyes flutter shut, relaxed and content and warm, and Shiro can’t help but feel the same when looking down at him. There’s a strand of hair stuck to his face and Shiro brushes it away, thumb stroking over Keith’s round, flushed cheeks a few times. Keith leans into the touch happily. He’s beautiful, and Shiro’s transfixed.

Perhaps sensing his gaze, Keith’s eyes flicker back open and he looks up into Shiro’s with a slow blink. The unexpected intensity of the eye contact takes Shiro’s breath away, stirs something deep in his chest. It’s like he suddenly knows Keith better than anyone else, like with this one act they’ve bonded in a way that Shiro didn’t even know was possible. It’s vulnerable and intimate and instinctual, and he can feel how much Keith trusts him in the way their eyes meet. It’s bringing out some kind of protective, almost paternal instinct in him, and he feels nothing but adoration for the boy, pure devotion. 

He’s turned on, too, it’s difficult to deny that. He’s grown hard, and it’s fortunate that Keith is sitting in such a way that he won’t be able to feel it. Even so, Shiro feels guilty. He tries his best to downplay it  - it’s his body’s natural reaction to being touched, after all, and his nipples have always been sensitive. But he knows it’s not just that. There’s something about it being  _ Keith  _ who’s touching him like this that’s getting him worked up. Keith, who’s world-weary and hardened already, but still comes running to him when he needs a shoulder to cry on. Keith, whose trust and admiration of him makes his chest swell with emotion. Keith, who despite his young age sometimes seems to understand Shiro better than anyone else. Shiro knows he should be more worried about these feelings than he is, but he can’t look away from Keith’s big, trusting eyes, and they seem to tell him that there’s nothing in the world worth worrying about right now. 

Keith readjusts a little. His hands work their way up to Shiro’s chest, one cupping each pectoral, and his thin fingers run gently over the nipple that he isn’t suckling on. Shiro’s breath catches in his throat and his mouth falls open, but no words come out. Keith’s eyes flash at his reaction. “Is it good for you, too?” he asks, voice muffled by the swollen and wet nipple in his mouth. 

Shiro nods. “Yeah,” he croaks. “Yeah. It’s good.” It’s far too good, far better than it should be, and Shiro should put a stop to it, or at least remove Keith’s hand from his other nipple. He knows he should, but he doesn’t. Can’t. Instead, he cradles Keith’s head with one arm, rubbing his arm and shoulder, and tentatively lets his other hand wander as Keith gently rubs and squeezes Shiro’s chest.

He starts on Keith’s lower back, rubbing circles over his uniform, and moves to his waist, down his hip and around the outside of one of Keith’s thighs. Keith gives a happy little sigh as Shiro explores his body. He feels so tiny beneath his touch. It makes Shiro’s already thumping heart skip a beat.

Cautiously, he slips his hand between Keith’s knees and rubs his thumb over the inside of his thighs, not going too high, but it’s still near impossible to pass it off as anything but a pervy grope. Shiro’s not even sure why he’s doing it himself: curiosity, arousal, or maybe just out of a desire to touch Keith back as Keith touches him. Maybe all of the above. Regardless, Keith’s eyes never leave his face, don’t lose their relaxed, trusting look, and that does as much to him as the feeling of the slim leg in his grasp. Shiro licks his lips and gives one last squeeze before pulling his hand back, getting it out of that dangerous territory before he goes too far. It both thrills and concerns him that Keith shows no indication of stopping it.

He wanders back up Keith’s little body, hand sliding up the fabric of his uniform until he finds his way back to Keith’s cheek. He cups it with a big hand and strokes him with his thumb, rubbing over the soft skin of his cheeks where Keith’s still flushed pink, then moves it to Keith’s wet mouth. He rubs it over the bottom lip a few times, then gently, carefully, pushes him away.

Keith pulls off of him with a wet pop. His lips are red and wet and swollen and Shiro can’t take his eyes off of them for a long moment, rubbing over them with his thumb, but he drags his gaze back up to Keith’s eyes.

He’s confused and worried, and his hands come to a still on Shiro’s chest. Shiro feels bad, but Keith looks to be doing a lot better now and he simply can’t justify doing this any longer, as much as they’re both enjoying it.

“Keith,” he whispers. “We should stop.”

“Why?” Keith asks, voice verging on hurt. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no baby you didn’t,” Shiro says quickly. Shit - baby? That had just slipped out. Well, he supposes it’s not the strangest thing considering Keith has been sucking on his tit like a newborn for the past several minutes. Keith’s expression relaxes, at least. “But it must be past lights-out by now. I need to get you back to your room. You’re feeling better, yeah?”

Keith nods. “Yeah, I am. Thanks, Shiro.” He awkwardly pulls himself up from the difficult angle and stands, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

He doesn’t mean to, but just as Keith turns around and straightens out his jacket, Shiro gets a glance at the crotch of his pants. Maybe he’s seeing things, but he thinks he sees a bulge there. He hadn’t even thought to look at how Keith’s body was reacting, too overwhelmed by his own sensations to consider it, and too hypnotized by his eyes to go looking anywhere else. But his view is gone in a split second, and besides, Shiro knows better than to gawk. It’s probably nothing. Teenagers get erections all the time; he remembers it himself all too well. He once got a semi from a particularly strong gust of wind. 

If anything, it just goes to show how relaxed Keith is. And that was the purpose of all of this in the first place, so it must be a good thing, right? Shiro pulls his shirt down and zips his jacket back up. His nipples are sensitive as they rub against the fabric, but he ignores it and stands, follows Keith out the door, hitting the lights behind him. 

The walk to Keith’s bunk room is uneventful and a little awkward. Shiro’s silent as his head starts to clear and the weight of what they did sinks in. The consequences should they be caught become frighteningly obvious, and he’s starting to question his sanity that he would even consider doing such a thing, risking his career and possibly his freedom just to cheer Keith up. But he can’t bring himself to regret it. 

When they arrive at the door, Keith turns to him nervously and says, “Thanks again, Shiro. Sorry if that was really weird.”

Shiro smiles reassuringly and puts his hand on Keith’s shoulder. “It was fine, Keith. I’m glad we did it.”

Keith gives a shy smile and, to Shiro’s surprise, wraps his arms tight around him in a hug. They’ve never hugged goodbye before, in fact they’d never hugged at all until Keith fell into his arms a little while ago. But it feels natural, after what they’ve been doing. Shiro feels closer to Keith than ever before.

He smiles and wraps his arms around Keith in turn, stroking his hair. Keith nuzzles his face into Shiro’s chest, his mouth right at the perfect height for Shiro’s nipple, and the thought makes Shiro blush a little. 

“Can we do it again?” Keith mumbles into Shiro’s uniform. “I mean, if I need it? Before we… before the weekend.”

“Of course,” Shiro says. “I’m here for you, Keith. No matter what.”

\--

The second he’s back in his own room, Shiro strips his clothes off and his fingers go straight to his nipples. They’re sticky and sensitive, and he groans as his cock goes hard again right away. He falls onto his bed with a sigh and wraps a hand around himself, stroking firm and slow. His heart is beating with something new, an unknown kind of excitement taking over him. As eager as he is to explore it, his body promising him intense release, he’s nervous too. This is  _ Keith,  _ this is a line he can’t cross any farther. But the smell of Keith’s hair still fills his lungs, and the shape of his slender body in Shiro’s arms still lingers, his chest still tight from the feeling. He closes his eyes and sees Keith’s deep blue ones in the dark, loving and trusting as they gaze up at him, and Shiro gives in, barely putting up a fight as arousal pushes out the last of his reservations.

He’s panting and wet with pre-come already, his hand moving fast and squeezing tight around himself as his other dances left to right over his chest, a poor imitation of Keith’s tender touch but it does the trick anyway. Keith’s voice is in his head -  _ is it good for you, too? -  _ and so is the memory of those little fingers sliding over his chest, Keith wanting to make him enjoy it, wanting to connect them with an act of such taboo intimacy that somehow came so easy and natural to them both. Those little fingers could do so much more, too. They’d look so cute wrapped around Shiro’s thick cock, or stretching himself open for Shiro to watch. And that’s to say nothing of what Keith could do with that pretty, soft mouth on other parts of his body. Shiro moans under his breath at the thought.

His whole body starts to shake with how close he’s gotten already, the intensity building so fast it’s taking him off guard. The knowledge that Keith is off-limits, proverbial forbidden fruit, is only driving him on more, because Keith seems so  _ receptive,  _ so trusting and open to anything that Shiro might have suggested. The existence of that kind of power does something to him. He’d never take advantage of that - at least, not more than he already has - but the possibility that he  _ could  _ and Keith would embrace it, well… that’s a dangerously exciting thought. Keith is truly one-of-a-kind: talented, intelligent, and far from naive. He’s wary and distrustful of others, having learned to rely on no-one but himself for so many years, but Shiro is his one exception, the one person he lets past his walls, and Shiro clings to that. Every instinct he has calls for him to protect and nurture this boy who opens up to him, shares his deepest secrets and indulges Shiro’s strangest fantasies without batting an eye. He doesn’t just indulge; he reciprocates. It’s mutual. They’ve both seen and understood a part of each other that none other ever has, and the intimacy and secrecy of it sends shivers of delight though him.

It doesn’t take long of him tugging at his nipples before he feels the orgasm coming. His legs writhe when he imagines Keith’s twined around them, and his hips buck, thrusting himself up into his hand. Keith is all around him, filling his lungs with every breath and smiling up at him in his mind’s eye, relaxed and sleepy and hard from Shiro’s hand wandering over his tight little body, over his slim waist and between his gorgeous legs, wriggling as he sucks on Shiro’s nipple, firm but gentle, and then Shiro is coming harder than he has in a long, long time, gasping out Keith’s name as he paints his stomach and chest with the proof of his release.

The whole thing lasts probably less than a minute, and Shiro’s left breathless and shaking, his heart thumping as he starts to come down.

As soon as he does, the guilt settles in. He’s no stranger to post-orgasm regret, but this is by far the worst thing he’s ever thought about to get himself off. It’s fucked up on so many levels and Shiro feels like a monster.

He sluggishly cleans himself up and rolls over onto his side, reaching out for his pillow and pulling it towards him, cradling it against his chest as if it’s Keith back in his arms. He should stop this now, that much is clear. He’d be risking everything he has as well as Keith’s safety if they continue this any further. But he’s already promised Keith they can do it again.

He’ll just have to exercise self-restraint, he thinks, as he drifts off to sleep already. He can do that. He’ll help Keith out, but no more than that. No more feeling him up or jerking off to it afterwards. 

By the next day, when Keith comes to him again, his resolve and determination to do better is already gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: *shows up two months later with starbucks and more baby keith fic* please enjoy

Keith comes to him the next three evenings in a row.

The first two nights, Shiro had waited patiently as Keith fumbled through some story about stress and anxiety, before bringing him to the sofa and letting the boy get under his shirt. Last night, Keith didn’t even get the chance to start on an excuse - Shiro was standing from his desk and directing Keith to their usual spot before the automatic door had even slid shut behind him.

The situation is bad, Shiro knows that. What they’re doing is weird and wrong and it’s incredibly stupid of him to be jeopardizing his entire career over, but he’s learned something about himself over the last four days, and it’s that he seems categorically incapable of denying Keith what he wants. And denying himself Keith.

In his office they embrace and settle into their quickly-established routine - Keith draped over his lap, little hands working his clothes apart, divine mouth seeking out his chest and gentle eyes gazing up into Shiro’s with that same addictive tenderness that makes his chest (and pants) go tight.

Shiro’s gotten bolder with his exploring, too, his wandering hand having learned the shape of Keith’s waist, ass, thighs, even the back of his neck and  delicate curve of his throat. He studies Keith slowly, an attentive pupil memorizing a work of art. Last night he even slipped a hand under Keith’s clothes and felt the warmth and smoothness of his skin, his palm flat against Keith’s back to feel out every rib. Keith had only shivered under his touch and wriggled in closer.

And of course, he’s been working all that tension off when he makes it back to his room afterwards, Keith’s name in his throat and the memory of his beautiful little body, trusting eyes and soft mouth running through Shiro’s mind as he brings himself to climax. He wonders if Keith can tell, somehow, if he can see the truth written on his face when their eyes lock, Keith cradled in his arms, looking up at him from an angle that no one else has seen him from. When they’re like that, Shiro feels as if Keith knows everything about him. It’s concerning how little that worries him.

Telling himself that this will all be over once they get a replacement on Saturday is all that’s kept Shiro from losing his mind the last few days. The varying waves of guilt and lust and self-revulsion and blissful serenity he’s felt non-stop since this began are becoming overwhelming, and the pacifier is an out he desperately needs before he falls over some kind of edge. Keith seems all too willing for Shiro’s touch to go further and further with each passing day, and Shiro’s horrified at himself for taking advantage of that every time. But he can’t seem to stop, and the now undeniable evidence of Keith’s arousal, which he has not only seen but felt the last two nights, pressed up against his abdomen through Keith’s tight uniform pants, isn’t helping him in the matter one bit.

He needs to end all of this right now, because evidently his self-control just vanishes along with his morals when he’s around Keith, and if he doesn’t put a stop to it now things are only going to escalate. He’s the adult in this situation. He can’t allow that to happen.

Shiro reminds himself of all of this for what feels like the hundredth time as he stands in the neighboring town’s _Baby Barn,_ chewing his lip thoughtfully as he waits for Keith to choose a pacifier. Apparently, there’s more to it than just ‘pink or blue’ as he had assumed, but he’s too distracted right now to ask Keith what shape he prefers or what the difference between rubber and silicone is.

“I want this kind,” Keith mumbles, looking between two plastic packages he’s holding in each hand. “But I don’t know which design…”

Shiro blinks and looks down at the options Keith is weighing up. They look identical apart from the childish cartoon animal painted on front - a blue puppy on one, a yellow hippo on the other. He smiles fondly. All of his thoughts and worries are forgotten in an instant; Keith is just too precious.

“Get both,” he says.

Keith turns to him, eyes wide. “Are you sure? They’re not cheap.”

“It’s fine,” Shiro says, taking them from Keith’s hand. “You need a back-up as well, right?”

Keith smiles shyly and nods, cheeks tinged pink. He lingers behind awkwardly as Shiro goes to the counter to pay.

Shiro taps his fingers nervously on the countertop and hands over the prized goods to the bored cashier girl. “For our sister,” he lies, when she doesn’t ask. “She’s -- um -- having a baby.”

The girl scans the barcodes and looks up at him. “These are for 12 month olds and over,” she says. “Did you want the newborn size?”

“O-oh...” Shiro stutters, looking back at Keith for help. He isn’t even listening to the conversation, distracted by an enormous hippopotamus plush toy that’s half his size when he picks it up. “No, no we want these ones.” he says. “She -- uhh -- already had the baby? Yeah. It’s having a birthday.”

The cashier blinks and looks at him strangely. “Right…” she says slowly, filing the items into a carry bag as Shiro swipes his card over the chip reader.

Face bright red, he pretends to be suddenly very interested in the shelf of items behind the counter as she prints his receipt. An innocuous blue cardboard packet catches his eye, and something in his brain stops working from the thought planted in it. “I need one of those, too,” he says, before he even realizes he’s speaking. The cashier girl follows the direction of his pointed finger, freezes for a fraction of a second when she sees his request, but scans the packet and rings up the balance with a polite, if slightly perturbed, smile. Thankfully, she doesn’t seem to want to ask.

Keith doesn’t see Shiro shove the box into his back pocket as he guides him out of the store and into his car, washed with the persistent dust of the desert and late afternoon sun. He hands Keith the bag with his new purchases in it and starts the engine. “It’s getting late,” he remarks. He’d had a busy morning and hadn’t been able to get away from the base as early as they’d hoped. “Do you want to get dinner before we head home?” he suggests, by way of compensation. “I’m buying.”

The way Keith tries to mask his excitement is adorable. “Really?” he chirps, before curbing back his wide grin with a bite of his lip, relaxing into his seat again. “Um, yeah, sure. If you want.”

Shiro smiles. “Burgers and milkshakes?”

“Sounds great,” Keith says.

\--

As it turns out, watching Keith suck on the straw of a strawberry milkshake is enough to get Shiro’s brain going to the very places he’s trying to avoid.

It’s different from how Keith looks latched onto his chest, and how he imagines he looks with a pacifier in his mouth, and certainly different from another kind of sucking that Shiro mentally smacks himself for having thought about far too often in the span of just a few days, but it’s sucking nonetheless, and he supposes at this point he’s become sort of conditioned to it.

Keith’s too short for the stools they’re sitting on, and his legs dangle adorably off of it, swinging just so slightly, just enough that he would probably be embarrassed if Shiro pointed it out. It’s cute. Keith’s got a tough exterior, walking around with his hands in his pockets and a scowl on his face, but this Keith feels much more real. Shiro has seen him with his guard down, seen him _happy,_ and it’s a much more childish and adorable side of him than he would ever have expected. As much as he feels guilty for what he’s been doing -- what _they’ve_ been doing -- Shiro can’t help but feel happy, even lucky, to have seen this Keith. He’s overjoyed that Keith trusts him enough to do so.

But as much as he’s loathe to do something that might ruin it all, there’s a conversation that needs to be had, one that Shiro can’t put off any longer. They’ve just about finished their meal, he’s tested Keith on acceleration speeds at varying altitudes and the landing sequences of different craft, listened sympathetically as Keith vented his problems with the other cadets, and even gotten a laugh or two out of him by making fun of a teacher he hates (Keith swears he won’t tell anyone). But the evening is getting on and there’s something he needs to be clear about with the kid. Delaying it any further would be cruel.

“So, Keith,” he says as casually as he can manage, reaching for the basket of fries they’re sharing between them. “Now that we’ve got you this, um, _replacement,_ it’s probably for the best if we don’t… you know… do what we’ve been doing, anymore.”

He cringes at himself, despising the fact that he’s meant to be the adult here and yet he can’t even bring himself to talk about the subject openly. Ashamed, he looks over at Keith, but the hurt and disappointed look on the boys face only serves to break his heart. It’s only there for a second before Keith looks away quickly, pulling himself together with practiced strength, but it’s enough to tear right through him.

“Yeah,” Keith murmurs. “Of course. I mean, it was only temporary, right?” He looks up at Shiro from behind his hair and tries to flash him a reassuring smile, but all Shiro can see is the sadness behind it

It requires all the will he has to fight down the urge to take it back. He has to do this. For Keith’s sake. For both of them.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and he really means it. He hopes Keith can tell. “Please don’t think I regret any of it, because I don't. But… we have to stop. If we got caught…”

“It’s okay,” Keith says. “Really, Shiro, don’t worry. I don’t want to get you in trouble. It’s weird, I get it. I’m not stupid. I know what it looks like.”

He tucks his head to the side, letting his hair fall over his face defensively, but not before Shiro gets a glimpse of the rejected humiliation stamped across it, cheeks burning red and tears stinging his eyes.

“Hey,” he says, finding the boy’s hands on the table and scooping them up in his. “Hey, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I’m not ashamed or grossed out, and I didn’t dislike it, that’s not the reason.” He rubs his thumbs reassuringly over the back of Keith’s hands, waiting for the boy to look at him. “Keith, I want you to know you can still come to me about anything, alright?”

Keith meets his eyes reluctantly and gives a weak smile. “Yeah,” he says. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Shiro repeats with a nod, before he suddenly remembers where they are. Sitting up quickly, he takes his hands off of Keith’s and hides them guiltily under the table, looking around the burger joint to see if anyone saw them. No one is looking, but it still somehow feels like all eyes in the building are on them.

“Are you going to eat any more?” he asks Keith.

When Keith shakes his head, he stands and shrugs his leather jacket over his shoulders. “We should get going. It’s a long drive back.”

\--

It’s dark by the time they escape the criss-crossed roads of the flat, dusty town and get onto the highway that leads to the base. Keith leans against the window, looking out over the endless stretch of desert as the road takes them farther and farther away from the twinkling lights of civilization. Shiro steals glances at him in the dark. He looks sleepy and more than a touch melancholy, and he feels a sharp pang of remorse for being responsible for that.

“Are you gonna try one out?” he asks, trying to distract Keith from whatever thoughts are haunting his brain.

Keith blinks and looks over at him, confused, before realizing what Shiro means. “Oh,” he says, pulling his knees up on the seat. “I dunno. It’s kinda embarrassing. I dunno if you wanna see that.”

“Of course I do,” Shiro blurts out, before clearing his throat with an embarrassed chuckle. “Um, what I mean is, go ahead. There’s no need to be embarrassed. Right?”

Keith smiles shyly. “Yeah, I guess so,” he says. He pulls the two plastic boxes from the shopping bag and looks them over. “Dog or hippo? You choose.”

Shiro smiles. “Me? Well, I think… hippo,” he says, thinking back to the way Keith examined the giant plush toy back in the store. “It’s cute.”

“You don’t like dogs?” Keith asks, putting the blue puppy pacifier down carefully and popping open the plastic around the yellow hippo one.

“I do,” Shiro says. “I just like the hippo more.”

Keith smiles as he turns the pacifier over in his hands. “Hippo it is, then,” he says quietly, and with a nervous glance at Shiro, pops it into his mouth.

Shiro’s heart thrums as he  watches it slide into Keith’s mouth, his pink lips wrapping around it, fitting perfectly in his mouth. Keith closes his eyes and gives a relaxed sigh, suckling on the pacifier contentedly with a wet noise. Shiro had thought about this more than he’d like to admit over the last few days, but his imagination couldn’t compare to the real thing. Keith looks so incredibly cute that it makes his chest hurt, and he can feel shameful arousal pooling in his gut as blood flows to his crotch. He licks his dry lips, swallows the lump in his throat.

There’s a strand of hair stuck across Keith’s cheek and caught in the pacifier, and Shiro reaches his hand out to brush it away. Keith’s eyes dart open at the touch and he flushes pink, but he looks happy as Shiro strokes his cheek, tucks the hair behind his ear.

“Cute,” Shiro murmurs as his heart beats hard, looking between the pacifier in Keith’s mouth and his bright, shining eyes.

Keith gives an embarrassed smile behind the paci and shuffles over on his seat, tentatively reaches out and takes Shiro’s hand in his, lacing their fingers together. When Shiro doesn’t turn him away, he slowly leans over and lays his head on Shiro’s lap. Shiro’s stomach does somersaults.

“Shiro,” Keith mumbles, pulling the pacifier out of his mouth just enough to talk. “Spending time with you the last few days has been great. The best time I’ve had in ages. So, I guess I just want to say -- thanks.”

Silence fills the car as Shiro’s heart breaks. He squeezes Keith’s hand tight, not knowing what to say. Keith puts the pacifier back in his mouth, and Shiro doesn’t say anything at all.

\--

By the time they arrive back at the base, Keith has fallen asleep on Shiro’s lap.

He’s had a lot of time to think on the drive back, with Keith nuzzled warm against him, suckling sleepily on the pacifier, making the occasional little murmuring noise or relaxed sigh as Shiro strokes his hair back from his face. His hand has somehow found its way to the inside of Shiro’s thigh and each time his fingers twitch in his sleep Shiro feels his insides burn. He’s lucky his dick is tucked to the other side today.

He’s felt his resolve weaken with each mile they get closer to home. This has to stop. He knows it has to stop, and he knows that if he doesn’t put an end to it now then he may never at all. But even as he tells himself this, he finds his hand guiltily running over Keith’s body in his sleep, fingers slipping under the collar of his looser-fitting civilian clothes to feel his chest and slim shoulders, his skin smooth and warm against his own calloused fingertips. Keith’s head on his lap is heavy and even though his leg is going dead he’s tempted to keep on driving as they approach the turn-off. He doesn’t want this to end. He’s afraid it isn’t going to.

Keith stirs as the car slows and Shiro pulls his hand away quickly, the sign of a guilty man. He cringes at himself.

“Hey, you,” he says, as Keith sits up and looks blearily around.

Keith pulls the pacifier out of his mouth and looks at it, almost confused. “I feel asleep with it in,” he says, voice croaky and adorable. “Haven’t done that in ages. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Shiro says with a smile. “Must be relaxing. We’re just about there.”

“Mm,” Keith responds, looking out the window. He’s silent for a while, and there’s a tension coming from him like he’s working himself up to say something. Shiro waits patiently. Finally it comes.

“Shiro,” he says, still turned towards the glass. “Can we stop by your room first? I don’t want to put the packaging in the general trash.” He glances almost nervously over. “Normally I throw it away in town,” he explains. “But today I… forgot.”

Shiro swallows. Keith hasn’t been to his room before. Not many people have, and Shiro’s had a habit of making sure that most of them spend more time between his sheets than anywhere else.

“Yeah,” he says, despite the implications, despite the danger. Or maybe because of it. “Yeah, of course.”

Keith smiles and turns back towards the glass, watching the lights of the Garrison grow brighter with their approach. “Thanks.”

\--

Sneaking Keith into his room without anyone seeing is both far more terrifying and far more exhilarating than sneaking in anybody else ever has been.

 _Nothing will happen,_ he tells himself, promises himself, even though deep down he doesn’t believe it, and even deeper down he’s very much hoping that something will. Keith looks about as nervous as he feels, silent as Shiro guides him down corridors, pausing to look around corners before grabbing Keith’s hand and tugging him along.

His room isn’t much, and for the first time ever he cares enough to be almost embarrassed by it. His unmade bed takes up most of the space, with a chest of drawers across from it and a television mounted on the wall above. A small, messy desk sits against one wall, and a door opens to a small bathroom in the corner. The standard Garrison layout and furniture. It’s hardly impressive.

Keith’s impressed anyway, or at least pretends to be. “I wish I had my own room,” he sighs, flopping himself down on Shiro’s bed like he’s staking claim to this one. “I hate the dorms.”

“Keep working hard and you’ll be an officer in no time,” Shiro says, trying to ignore how Keith looks with his limbs splayed over Shiro’s big bed, the very bed he’s jerked off in for the last four nights in a row while imagining Keith’s there. The thought chases him as he moves into the bathroom, fills a glass of water from the sink and downs it in one go, steadying himself. When he turns back around, Keith is looking at him silently from where he lays, open and inviting and nervous all at once. There’s flush over his cheeks. There’s no denying what he’s hoping for.

Shiro walks over slowly and sits next to the boy, heart beating rapidly in his chest as they look at each other in silence. Keith’s hair flows over the sheets where he lays, and he wants nothing more than to comb his fingers through it, silky soft as he knows it to be. He looks over Keith slowly, at his pink lips and nervous but hopeful eyes, down his slender and pretty body that he desperately wants to touch, that he knows Keith wants him to touch. The only thing stopping him his own rapidly decaying will.

He sighs and leans down on one elbow, wrapping an arm around Keith and pulling him in close. He noses at Keith’s hair, breathing in the flowery scent of his shampoo as Keith wraps himself around Shiro, nuzzles against the crook of his neck with a little noise.

“Keith,” Shiro starts. He tries, he really does, but he finds he can’t get the rest of his sentence out. He grimaces at himself as silence takes him over.

“You were touching me in the car,” Keith offers, filling the gap. “Didn’t you say we should stop doing that?”

Shiro flinches, cursing himself. It was stupid of him. Of course Keith would have felt it. “Yeah. Yeah I did say that.”

“But you don’t want to,” Keith says. It’s not a question.

Shiro swallows thickly. “No, I guess I don’t.”

Keith pulls back to look at Shiro, giving him the most innocent, earnest look Shiro’s ever seen. “Then why should we? If we both want to do it then what’s the problem? I know nobody else will understand, but we can be careful, we can keep it a secret.”

“Keith,” Shiro tries again, but his heart’s just not in it. He sighs and runs his hand over his face.

He can feel Keith’s eyes boring into him imploringly. “I don’t want to stop,” he murmurs.

Shiro exhales through his nose and gives a resigned, self-deprecating smile as he leans down and presses a kiss to the top of Keith’s head. He should have just accepted days ago that things were going to turn out like this. He’s a slave to this boy.

“Then we won’t,” he says.

Keith’s motionless in his arms. “Really?” he asks, almost disbelieving.

“Yeah,” Shiro says, running fingers through his hair and kissing the same spot again, letting Keith’s scent permeate him. “Whatever you want, Keith.”

Keith slides his hands under the flaps of Shiro’s leather jacket and over his pecs, pressing himself in close. “Right now?” he asks, bristling with enthusiasm.

Shiro nods and just manages to bite back a moan as Keith hurriedly gets his trembling little fingers under his shirt, tickling his stomach as they make their way up his torso, pulling the fabric up to his collarbone.

They shuffle up the bed, Shiro leaning back on the headboard and Keith taking up his usual spot, sprawled across Shiro’s lap. He wastes no time in bringing his mouth to one of Shiro’s nipples, but instead of sucking on it as usual, he licks it, a wide, wet stripe up Shiro’s chest.

Shiro hisses in air through his teeth and watches dizzily as Keith leans back a little, examining the way Shiro’s nipples go hard as he rubs them between his fingertips, leaning back down to give little kitten licks over the sensitive nubs before latching on to one properly, rolling the other between deft little fingers. Damn it all for feeling this good. Shiro feels blood rush to his cock, impatient and aching to be touched after being half-hard for half of the night.

He wraps his arms around Keith and slides his hands under the boy’s clothes, takes his jacket and shirt off wordlessly. Keith pulls away from Shiro’s chest to help him get the clothes over his head. He looks incredible, skin tight and pale, his body just losing that last bit of baby fat and starting to broaden out a bit, muscles lightly defined under the surface.

“You’re beautiful,” Shiro whispers, running a thumb from Keith’s sternum down to his belly button, watching the way he shivers, slowing down and savouring every last inch until he reaches the edge of his jeans, low on his hips. He wraps his warm palm around Keith’s waist and slides it up his side, feeling out every rib, up to rub the back of Keith’s neck. His skin breaks out in goosebumps where Shiro touches him.

Trembling and eager, Keith works Shiro’s jacket off his shoulders and the shirt over his head. He wraps his arms around Shiro’s back to feel his bare skin, fingers digging into his shoulders as he squirms under Shiro’s hungry touch and gaze. Shiro looks at his face, scrunched up in pleasure and half-hidden against his own broad chest, with adoration.

“Tell me if I’m going too far, okay?” he says. “I’ll stop at any point.”

Keith nods with a whine, shivering as Shiro traces him vertebrae by vertebrae down to the small of his back.

Slowly, tentatively, Shiro slips his hand under Keith’s tight jeans, releasing an awed breath as his palm closes around one of Keith’s round cheeks. He’s never gotten beneath Keith’s pants before, and as much as he enjoyed feeling him up through the thick, bulky cadet uniform, it’s incomparable to having his hand shape him out properly, the squishy flesh of his ass filling out his palm like matching pieces of a puzzle.

“God, Keith,” he whispers, dropping his head down and letting his mouth fall open as his fingers dig into the plush skin, squeezing a whole cheek neatly in one hand and working a whine out of the boy. “God. You feel so nice, baby. You’re perfect.”

Keith gasps for breath, shaky and warm against Shiro’s chest, trembling all over as Shiro slips his hand out and trails his fingers around to the front of his jeans, wrapping his palm around Keith’s erection. Keith whimpers and tilts his hips up into the touch, fingernails scratching at Shiro’s back.

“You want me to help with this, too?” Shiro whispers, rubbing his hand up and down the tough denim where he can feel Keith so hard below.

Keith whines and nods, clinging to him tight. “P-please.”

Shiro works the button loose and unzips him slowly, taking his time and savouring every moment, every flittering expression that graces Keith’s gorgeous face. He gets his hand beneath Keith’s jeans and Keith moans, muffled against Shiro’s chest. He’s so hard and leaking through his underwear already, cock twitching as Shiro’s hand closes around it, desperate to be touched. It fits so snug and nice in his palm.

“That’s what you want, baby?” he coos, looking down at Keith squirming below him.

“Y- _yes,”_ Keith stutters. _“Nng, Sh-Shiro!”_

Shiro shuts his eyes with a contented smile, thrumming with delight at the way his name breaks on Keith’s voice so beautifully. He pulls his hands back, fingers edging teasingly at the hem of Keith’s underwear, and slowly slips them under, gliding through soft curls of hair before anchoring back around his perfect little cock.

He has Keith practically flailing in his arms, feet kicking up the blankets beneath them as he moans and writhes, back arching and hips grinding into the touch. “Oh, oh god, _Shiro!”_

“Shh shh shh,” Shiro hushes him. He squeezes his other arm around Keith’s shoulders to try and hold him still. “The walls are thin. You have to stay quiet. Can you do that?”

Keith nods shakily and blinks his eyes open, his pupils blown wide, lash line watery. He looks so overwhelmed, so beautiful, cheeks flushed and lips wet and pink and open. Shiro could devour him right here and now.

“Good boy. Just relax, I’ll take care of you,” he whispers, and Keith melts. His eyes flutter shut again and his head rolls towards Shiro’s chest, releasing a muffled moan against his skin.

Not taking his eyes off Keith’s face, Shiro rolls his wrist over Keith’s cock in a slow rhythm, making the boy mewl. It feels so good to have Keith in his arms like this, to be taking him to pieces with just a few strokes of his hand. He’s so incredibly sensitive. Shiro’s mind races with possibilities, about how Keith would look and sound with Shiro’s tongue on him, with his fingers buried in him, or his cock, splitting his tiny body open. He groans at the thought alone. Tonight, though, he’ll have to be patient.

Shiro loosens his hold on the boy to move him down to the mattress. “Lie down,” he orders, and Keith does, wrapping his arms around Shiro’s neck to bring him down too. Shiro leans over him, weight resting on one elbow, and lets his head drop to rest against Keith’s forehead. He can feel Keith’s warm, gasping breath against his own lips, hear every tiny little sound he makes, the whimpering beneath each exhale, each heavy swallow around his tongue.

Shiro starts slowly jerking him again and Keith whines and writhes beneath him, fingers digging into his skin and pulling at his hair. He works a leg between Shiro’s thighs and Shiro swears under his breath, hips rutting instinctually against it, trying to buy himself some relief from the ache of his cock. This was meant to be about Keith, not him, but if Keith wants to feel his hard-on pressed up against his thigh then he’s not going to deny him.

“Shiro,” Keith whines, and Shiro opens his eyes to find Keith’s dark ones looking at him, a mixture of awe and tearful pleading in them.

“It’s okay, baby,” he says. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Keith nods with a whimper. He closes his eyes, long lashes fanning down on his pink cheeks, and bumps their noses together, inches his mouth closer to Shiro’s with a nervous murmur, hands in Shiro’s hair to hold him close.

Shiro brings his free hand to cup Keith’s jaw and rubs his thumb over the boys wet lips. Keith’s tongue darts out to welcome it inside, and Shiro groans as the boy sucks on it, lost for a moment in the velvety softness of that warm mouth. Keith chases him as he reluctantly pulls his thumb out, but Shiro holds him down gently, rubbing the wet digit over Keith’s bottom lip until Keith opens his eyes again. Shiro smiles at him softly and rubs their noses together, and Keith looks up at him with bated breath before Shiro leans down and bridges the gap between their mouths.

It’s quick, little more than a peck. A check to see if it’s alright. Shiro pulls back enough to look at him, and Keith looks almost shocked. Then, with a needy whine, he digs his fingers into Shiro’s hair, scraping his scalp in desperation, and pulls him back down.

Keith’s kiss is inexperienced. Cute. Shiro guides him through it and Keith seems happy to let him lead, moving from a gentle press to a slow slide of their lips. Shiro nudges his mouth open with the hand around Keith’s jaw, slipping his tongue just inside, drawing Keith’s own out. He’s a quick learner.

As the kiss deepens and quickens, so does Shiro’s hand on Keith’s cock. It doesn’t take long to figure out how he likes to be touched - how tight he should grip, where to apply pressure, how fast he should move. Keith is vocal without words, his gasps and moans and half-choked sobs more than enough to guide Shiro through all the right steps. He eats up every beautiful sound Keith makes, holding him down and kissing him greedily, selfishly. Devouring every reaction with a hunger he’s hardly felt before.

It doesn’t take long before Keith’s moans take on a different tone, longer and louder, interrupting their kiss. His fingers pull Shiro’s hair so hard it nearly makes his eyes water.

“Sh-Shiro,” he stutters. “I’m -- I’m gonna --”

A yelp he can’t contain escapes him as Shiro moves his hand faster. Keith’s being too loud, but Shiro isn’t going to stop for anything now. In a flash he slips his free hand over Keith’s mouth and presses down tight, trapping his urgent moaning in before it can leave him.

Shiro watches breathlessly as Keith’s whole body trembles, eyes squeezed shut, breathing hard and fast through his nose, and then, as his whole body arches off the bed, he’s coming into Shiro’s hand.

Shiro moans low, swearing under his breath. This is everything. Everything they’ve done over the last few days feels like it’s been leading to this moment, and it’s perfect. Keith is new and sensitive and perfect in his hands, in his bed, and Shiro shakes, rutting hard against Keith’s thigh, as he feels the last waves of come pulse out of Keith’s cock, feels the vibrations of his muffled moaning against his palm. He needs him, he needs him so bad, needs him right now at this very moment. He needs to exist with him in that same state of blissful afterglow that he’s just brought Keith to. His whole body sings with the need.

He pulls his hand off Keith’s mouth - warm and wet with drool - and kisses him urgently. Keith mewls, gasping for breath, not pushing Shiro away but too exhausted and overwhelmed to kiss him back properly.

“Keith,” Shiro whispers, a desperate, pleading edge to his voice he’s never heard in himself before. “Can I?”

He’s fumbling with the zip of his own jeans before Keith even nods, and with the permission he quickly swings his leg over Keith and braces himself above him, moaning as he pulls himself free and finally gets a hand around himself.

“Shiro,” Keith sighs, his voice horse. He wraps his legs around Shiro’s own and his arms around Shiro’s neck, trying to pull him in closer with weak and trembling hands.

Shiro kisses him and moans into his mouth as he moves his hand over himself quickly, almost frantic with the need to come.

“Keith, ohh, oh my god,” he groans. “God, Keith, you’re --”

He breaks off, feeling the start of orgasm already. With a sharp intake of breath, he slips his free hand under Keith’s head and pulls him in close, fingers tangled in his hair. He drops his head to the pillow next to him and breathes heavily into his ear, wrist pumping fast.

 _“Fuck,”_ he whispers. _“Hah -- fuck, baby -- ahh!”_

Keith whines and squeezes his little arms around Shiro’s neck tight, and with a last couple of strokes Shiro comes, hard enough to see stars, painting Keith’s stomach and chest with it. He moans as he works the last few blissful drops out, then all but collapses on top of the boy, panting hard and wrapping his arms around him protectively.

He comes down slowly, the embers in his veins burning out one by one, feeling warm and right tangled up in Keith’s limbs, the sticky mess between them gluing them together. He can feel Keith’s little heart beating rapidly in his chest, and he lets himself lay there for a long moment, feeling it slow and even out alongside his own. It’s heaven.

He loses track of time, just about drifting off to sleep, but after what must be a minute or two Keith shifts a little, his muffled voice peeping up in the quiet. “Shiro?”

“Hm?” Shiro mumbles sleepily in response, mouthing a lazy kiss against his neck.

“You’re heavy.”

Shiro smiles and shifts his weight off of him, trailing his lips up Keith’s neck, jaw, catching his lips in a slow kiss. “Sorry, baby.”

He props himself up properly and looks down at Keith, and the boy has never looked more beautiful. He’s just about glowing, his cheeks still flushed, eyelids heavy, mouth pink and swollen. He looks up at Shiro with a face full of wonder and trust and calm serenity, as if he’s untouchable here with Shiro holding him. Shiro feels like he is. They both are.

He tears his eyes away reluctantly, getting up off the bed only because he wants to settle in with Keith properly. “I’ll get you cleaned up,” he says with a kiss to Keith’s forehead.

He grabs a towel from the bathroom and wipes his own chest and stomach down as he examines himself in the mirror. What would people call him now, he wonders. A pervert for sure. A molester, probably. Worse. He looks into his own eyes, feeling like he should be feeling something more, something like guilty and disgusted and deeply ashamed. But he doesn’t, he just feels lighter and happier than ever before.

He gives a little half-smile, somewhere between sardonic and smug, and tugs his pants off. Something falls out of them - the little blue cardboard box he’d bought at the baby store. Shiro had forgotten all about it.

He picks it up and looks at it thoughtfully, sighing to himself. _Mother’s Milk,_ he reads. _Natural and effective supplements to enhance milk supply._ He doesn’t know why he bought them. Too horny for his own good, even when he was supposed to be putting a stop to all of this. He supposes that deep down he knew all along that things were going to turn out this way. He never stood a chance from the moment Keith first fell into his arms.

He opens the bathroom cabinet to put the box away - they probably won’t work anyway - but something makes him hesitate. What’s one more impulsive decision on top of everything else that’s happened? With a furtive glance over his shoulder at Keith - kicking his jeans off from where he lies on the bed - he breaks open the seal and pops a pill into his mouth, swallowing it dry.

He walks back to the bed and sits on the edge of it to clean Keith up, not missing the way Keith looks at him with nervous intensity.

“Hey,” Shiro asks worriedly, cupping Keith’s cheek. “You alright?”

Keith relaxes a little with a shy smile. “Yeah,” he says. “Just, um… can I stay here the night?”

Shiro grins, dropping the dirty towel to the floor and curling up on the bed next to Keith, pulling the blankets over them both.

“Of course,” he says, rubbing his back and pressing a kiss to his forehead. It’s Sunday tomorrow. They’ll figure something out. Right now he really doesn’t care about anything but holding onto Keith as long as possible.

He lays a trail of soft kisses down Keith’s temple, cheek, jaw, neck, back up to his mouth, teasing him with just a faint press of his lips. Keith’s face blooms with a shy smile as he tries to chase Shiro’s mouth, slender arms sliding around his neck.

“Besides,” Shiro whispers with a dopey grin, nudging their noses together as he wraps a hand around Keith’s waist, drawing him in close. “I’m not done with you yet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a [ twitter.](https://twitter.com/theodoramyhoney/status/1067238223238197248) It's new and bare bones but hey if you feel like following or retweeting that's very much appreciated.


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